


Two Captains Under A Banana Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G

by worddumb



Series: Wilbur Soot's Little Mermaid Story (except he's op as Fu-) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Established Relationship, Fluff, I'd make a joke about dying like Tommy but no, I'm in too much pain for that, Just for a bit but still, M/M, Not Beta Read, Siren Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Gets Poetic, based on online persona's, but only with a lot of effort so he just doesn't for most of the fic, edit: vaguely beta-ed, not Dream SMP related, soft, there's magic in the world so he can sorta see, they kiss at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 16:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: Technically they're on a beach, but that didn't go as wellAlso banana's are not trees but 'grass' also just didn't vibe with me
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot
Series: Wilbur Soot's Little Mermaid Story (except he's op as Fu-) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187009
Kudos: 56





	Two Captains Under A Banana Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Dream is laid out in the sand. 

Hot and lovesome, both it and the ever so slightly humid air contribute to him feeling like a roasting seal on the grains, naked beyond a light chemise and under knickers. He likes it, like this, with his and Wilbur’s crews playing and laughing and splashing a little bit away from him and all his muscles lax, feeling safer than ever on this little island they’ve found for themselves. Almost weird, how much he can chill away from his ship and with so many people around. 

Swaying steps chirr through the sand on his left. If he recognizes correctly, it’s Wilbur. He doesn’t bother tensing or checking, remaining like boneless jello on the bed of the shore, a swirl of panic in the back of his head his only reaction. 

The steps come to a stop right next to him. He feels a figure of chill lay over him, shielding him from the sun which apparently does exist: “Hey.” 

So, it is Wilbur. Panic at the bottom of his skull dissipating, he loosens somehow further: “Hey-”- Dream puts a bit of surprise into his voice- “-what’s up?” 

Wil, who’s been humming, settles next to him with some rustling: “Mmm, not much, just destroyed three teenagers in a water brawl. What ’bout you?” 

“You cheated,”- as reproachful as he can muster, Dream pap-pap-paps at the ground next to him until he finds Wilbur’s knee, wet and covered by cloth he knows to be a skirt, leaving his hand limp on it- “And nothing, just laying.” 

“Well I don’t find that using my natural power is cheating, and I _will_ fight you on that,”- ignoring Dream’s scoff, Wil carries on- “Would you say your vision is cheating, by any chance?” 

“Wow, rude,”- a timid smile breaks out on Dream’s lips, his hand snaking further up Wilbur’s knee, no doubt raising that sinful skirt up- “You can’t just say that to a man without eyes.” His movement connected to his will, he pokes at the ever ravaging ocean of Wilbur’s psyche just because he can despite the light pang of pain it causes, seeing clear as day the mock-offended crease of Wil’s forehead. 

“I can and I did, you utter dumbass,”- Wil’s hand finds its way to his, threading their fingers together and stopping even the little movement, and thus visibility, Dream had- “And don’t move this much, you need the rest.” 

“Oh shut up-”- he tries to sit up, a surge of energy running along the grained up will of the land they’re on all the way up to the trees and all the way down to the rief with a surge of pain coming with it, a hand pushing him down square in the middle of his chest- “-I’ve been laying here for at least an hour, I can do what I want,”- still, he doesn’t try to resist as a hum builds up in the depth of Wilbur’s throat, the air itself forcing him to lay and Wil’s thumb rubbing soothing figures along his knuckle. 

“No, no you can’t. Don’t lie to me, you tire so easily you’re bound to still feel shit-”- “Well I don’t, weather boy,”- and well that’s true, as hours of soaking up the warmth of his environment like a lizard had left his whole body and soul buzzing in pleasant exhaustion. That’s not shit, that’s amazing. 

Silence. “Yes you do, or do you mean to tell me your will getting all strung up like the sharpest little knife is just how it’s ‘meant to be’?” 

“How did you know, you weren’t even like, singing or anything,”- Dream pulls on the hand in his, this time not urging himself past his body. 

“I was, actually, your silly human ears are just simply too dull to hear it. I always am.” 

Absorbing the revelation for a bit, Dream throws his other hand over his stomach. Then, reaches up, still not expanding beyond himself, and wavers around until Wilbur catches him by the wrist: “Wow, creep much?” 

His wrist is pulled, up up and up until his shoulder blade is almost raised off the ground: “No, just fascinated by the world. Did ju know, god is dead? Cause I know, cause I’m always watching and I can tell the difference between the will of the dead and the living, and you can’t. Or can you?”- the last sentence is almost tagged on, despite genuine curiosity threaded through every word. 

“Yep, I can. I mean, can’t anyone? It’s like, super intuitive, the dead is always like, more solid and stuff? And the living is always a mess, like how can you not? Didn’t figure God was dead though, I thought their will was just, naturally dim or something,”- now that he thinks about it, the whole ‘dead’ thing does make a whole lot more sense, with how the ground gives beneath even his whims and how the sea is always. Dull? That’s not the right word. 

“Fundy can’t. Neither can Tommy, or Tubbo, or Eret, I thought it was a human thing, actually,”- Dream’s swayed by his wrist as Wilbur talks, letting himself be limp in the other’s grasp- “Can I take off your mask, by the way?” 

“I mean, they don’t depend on their will to survive or anything, so maybe that’s why. And yeah, yeah sure,”- he can just tell his voice breaks a bit as much as his will wavers. 

The grip on his wrist loosening, his arm is lowered over his stomach, Wil freeing his hand and working his fingers through Dream’s hair all the way until he raises Dream’s head off the ground. Then, holding it up with one hand, he goes to undo first the top strap, then the bottom: “Yeah, probably. They’re also puny and human, and their wills are like shriveled seaweed,”- lowering Dream’s head, he’s gentle as he lifts the mask off with one hand. Tension strung, Dream almost surges out again, almost moves. His hair is pushed out of the space his eyes once were. 

“Wow, there’s like nothing here, I'm honestly still amazed. Oh by the way, can we talk about it by the way or are you uncomfortable?”- ever considerate, if ever too late. 

“You already did,”- still, Dream makes his voice light and mocking, reaching out for the hand now resting on his cheek and nuzzling it. Wil’s other hand is still in his hair, scratching against the sand. 

“Oops, sorry. Anyway, whatever the fuck happened and who should I kill?” 

“The cleric at my home rig-”- maybe because he’d told this story a thousand times or maybe because it’s Wilbur, the words come easy and airy- “-they wanted to cure my blindness and sorta gave me a chemical burn, and then I just, grew over it cause I could,”- he considers- “And maybe cause I wanted the scar to go away and didn’t know how to be more precise yet.” 

Above him, Wilbur snorts. “Good intentions, huh?” “Mhm.” 

They sit, listening to the ocean breeze and the muffled excitement of their crews on the opposite side of the island, now. 

“You’re still-” “Hey, can you-”- Dream shuts up. Wil makes no attempt to speak again. “Can you describe what it’s like, right now?” 

A hum, slowly transferring to song. Then, just as he thinks that’s Wilbur’s way of telling him, with the sweetest, warmest notes, he’s doused in water: “It’s fucking hot.” 

Coughing up the shock, Dream spasms enough where he sorta sees Wilbur’s serious expression, the unifying grains of sand beneath him, almost surging out into the world out of sheer panic. As it settles though, he can help neither a facepalm nor a laugh: “Oh my god, I meant how it looks.” 

Once again, a hand drags through his hair, the one previously on the back of his head, Wil’s other hand still on his cheek and smudging the water off: “Mm, okay. It’s wonderfully sunny, for one, the light filters through the banana leaves rather like water through a comb and both our moons are visible despite it being day. The ocean is ever blue, my love, and the sky is ever a good mirror, not a single cloud in sight. You, beneath me, are lovely-”- the hand cupping his cheek goes up to his hair, getting a stubborn strand off his forehead- “-and the world is warm and kind. How’s that for a description, huh?” 

“Mhm. Why in the world didn’t you just do that from the start though, I know you love to poeticize,”- pushing his nails up Wilbur’s arm, Dream drives the soaking fabric of the sleeve up all the way until he can claw onto Wil’s shoulder. “I dunno-”- the shoulder he’s clinging to moves, up and down in what he knows to be a shrug- “- just wanted to mess with you.” 

Dream sighs. Relocates his hand to the back of Wilbur’s neck. Before he can pull the other down, Wil gets the memo, bending down himself; as their lips meet, sharp siren teeth hidden only for now and despite that equal, despite that soft, as he darts out his tongue just for a taste, as inevitably, it deepens into a proper, love-filled kiss, he feels at peace. 


End file.
